Storms
by arrowheadflyby
Summary: After an argument, neither one wants to see the other. But when tragedy strikes, will this family pull together? Set five years into the future. Cannon ships.
1. Chapter 1

**So I wanted to try something different! I couldn't get this idea out of my head after watching a movie with Emily Deschanel in it. She did a rather splendid job in the movie, and the emotional pain felt throughout it really hit me hard. **

**On top of that, I write what I know. And this, along with another fiction I shall be writing (I'm unsure how long that one will be) is one of the things that I'm currently seeing. A family friend just recently had this occur, and while I don't know her well, I felt a stab of pain at what had happened to her. Something my mom used to tell me kept popping up in my head and I just couldn't forget it.**

'**Storms are usually silent. They strike without meaning or care. It's blind. It does not care about who you are, your wealth, your status, your race. It does not care about your age. Mostly, though, storms are here to see how long you can stand before being pushed down. They seem hard, but remember. A storm always has to lighten up, some day. It can't last forever.'**

**So without further ado, here's "Storms". I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

"Do you know how absolutely exciting this is, Bren? A little boy! Are you going to tell Christine?" Angela asked, excited genuinely after her friend had told her the news. While the entire lab had been ecstatic about the couple having another kid, Brennan had only trusted Angela and Booth with the news of the little guys gender. The idea of telling five year old Christine of the news, however, seemed like both a bad and good idea. She'd have to discuss it with Booth.

"It's quite exciting, yes. And perhaps we'll inform Christine…I'm unsure. How are you feeling, Ange?" she asked. Almost two weeks after Brennan had announced her pregnancy, Angela had taken her aside and admitted the same thing to her friend. While Angela hadn't been thrilled when Jack let it slide later that month, she'd quickly forgiven him.

"I'm…Well, Bren, it'll be worth it," she grinned, and both women sat down, leaning back into the anthropologists couch.

"How is Michael taking the news?"

"He's really excited, actually…It's just…Sweetie, I…" the worry in her voice, the strain, made Brennan look up almost immediately into her friends eyes.

"What is it, Ange?"

"Hodgins and I…We hadn't actually planned on getting pregnant again…The risk was too high for the chance that he or she could be born blind and…I'm worried, sweetie…I really am,"

Brennan stayed silent and then propped herself up, trying to think of anything comforting to say.

"Anthropologically speaking, the worry you're feeling is simply-"

"Sweetie, I know…I just can't stand the idea of a kid living in a world without sight…Sight is my instrument. Michael, he was lucky, but…"

Brennan stayed silent again and blinked, rubbing her neck before intertwining her fingers with Angela's.

"Even if your child is born blind, they will be alright. Family holds fast. Alright? We stick together."

This promise was not a promise on Temperance Brennan's lips. No, they were fact. She wasn't lying when she said these things, and was instead saying something very real and something that she believed was true. It wasn't faith, she'd deduced. She'd seen what her family, what their family, could do. Angela was like a sister to her. One of which she rarely argued with and understood her quirks. And everyone had grown close. They didn't leave each other. This was fact.

Angela, astonished at the words, nodded and blinked.

"I have to go, Ange," Brennan said quickly when she looked at her wall clock and got up. "Stay safe. Call me later, if you want," she'd stated. Angela nodded and waved her off with a small smile on her face.

It was more than being a sister to her. It was like she was a part of her. It hurt, physically, to see the other hurt.

Neither was aware of the storm collecting around them.

* * *

Nor was Booth, who sat at the table, holding a glass of wine and waiting for his girlfriend. He'd put

Christine to bed an hour ago, and had yet to figure out why Brennan was so late tonight. It wasn't just that, of course. There were other reasons that he was nursing anger.

When the door opened softly and closed even softer, Booth looked up and felt his eyes harden.

"Where were you, Temperance?"

That should have been the first sign of his internal storm, not THE storm, but A storm, a storm that was tearing him apart. Only he didn't know it yet.

She crept in and laid her bag on the counter before sitting across from Booth, laying her head in her hands and sighing.

"I talked to Angela for a little later then I'd hoped, and the traffic wasn't pleasant today. I apologize, Booth. I'll look after Christine tomorrow," she offered, thinking he was angry about having to take care of their child by himself. He'd had to for the past week or so because of a case.

"Christine misses her mom, Temperance. Where the hell has she been?" he asked. For a moment, Brennan almost replied with the exact same reply as last time, before she realized that he had meant where had she been for the past week?

Since having Christine, she'd managed to block away the constant need to be at the lab. Christine and Booth, frankly, made her happy. But last weeks case had hit her hard. A foster kid who had died in the same manner she'd been treated. Trapped in the back of a car. She'd been re-visiting the bones, treating them with much care and almost motherly affection. Perhaps it was a bit odd to others, but she knew what it felt like and she didn't want her to think, even if the idea of an afterlife in her mind was ridiculous, that she didn't care.

Someone had to care.

Her name had Joy Manning. Perhaps that little tid bit had punched her hard as well.

"I'm sorry, Booth. It's just, the case-"

"You don't put work before family! That's not something you do! You don't put the bones of some dead girl who's been forgotten before your family! I thought even you'd have figured that out!"

Perhaps Booth hadn't figured out why the case had affected her that much. That was the only rational reason. But suddenly, Brennan didn't feel rational herself anymore. She got up quickly and slammed her hand on the counter top.

"She doesn't have any family, Booth! She was alone! Totally and utterly alone! Trapped in a god damned car trunk for days! A man that she was supposed to trust put her there! No food, no water, no light, almost no clean air! A child, Booth! A child who wasn't as lucky as some other children," she stated, before swinging around and walking away.

"Where the hell are you going?!" he snarled.

"To the guest room! I'm sleeping there tonight. Talk to me in the morning, Booth!" she stated, slamming the guest bedroom door and falling to the bed, exhaustion overtaking her.

As sad as it was, she was happy that he didn't knock on her door.

* * *

Christine had heard all of it, of course.

She'd cowered in the corner of her bedroom, holding her stuffed animals to her chin, and cried into her blanket. She knew that her mom had come home late, but she'd never have guessed Daddy would have gotten that mad over it. She'd seen her father angry when she'd broken something or played with something she wasn't supposed to, but never shouting angry. Daddy had always went outside or gone downstairs. He'd never screamed before.

She wanted to go to her treehouse, but it was dark and she was afraid of monsters. Ironically, she was the most aware of the storm building in the house. Not a storm, like the one that was building in her daddy, but the storm. The one that would blow them down.

This was like the wind that blew hard on a fall day. It hurt sometimes, but it was mostly harmless.

Cowering, Christine closed her eyes and started to tell a bedtime story to herself, trying to avoid the monsters that came with the storm.

* * *

Booth stood looking at the door for a long time. His heart had calmed down in his chest, but the anger was still there. Perhaps that's why he didn't go to her. The insignificant gnawing of the storm that was coming, it was barely registering. If it had registered, he would have gone to her. He would have whispered all things lovely and he would have told her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her.

But of course, this would not happen.

Instead, Booth finished his wine, and put away the cup, cleaning it slowly and methodically, not unlike he'd cleaned his gun all those years ago in the Rangers.

He jogged upstairs and didn't check on Christine. Perhaps, if he'd noticed the gnawing of the storm, he would have. But tonight, for the first night since she had been born, he didn't look into her bedroom. He walked into his own room, kept the door open and laid in bed.

He did not feel the storm approaching, but he did feel the aching of loneliness, of the lack of his woman beside him.

He ignored even this, though perhaps because fate is mostly unkind, he did not sleep.

* * *

He heard her scream for him at three in the morning. At first, he'd freaked out, thinking she'd had a bad dream. As though making up for bad timing, he checked on his daughter, who was sound asleep now on her bed, and then ran downstairs.

"Bones? You okay?"

"Booth…Labor…" she panted weakly. The man quickly stiffened.

"You're only nineteen weeks, Bones…"

"I'm well aware, thank you. Now get me to the freaking hospital, Booth!" she snarled, though it sounded as though it was more out of fear then pain. Booth rushed upstairs and woke up Christine, knowing that no baby sitter could be found this late at night, before he loaded both his girlfriend and child into the police car.

The frightened look on Christines face barely registered for Booth. He was paying attention to Brennan.

When they finally got to the hospital and managed to get in (luckily, almost no one was at the ER at three thirty in the morning) both Booth and Christine sat silently in the waiting room. He'd texted Hodgins to let him know.

All that Booth could think about was that fear in Brennan's eyes.

* * *

To be fair, it's unrealistic to assume that you can predict the storm. That you can know it's how it moves like weather men occasionally know when a storm will hits.

Children feel it first, and perhaps that's why they are either more or less affected by it then adults. Perhaps it has nothing to do with mental devolvement. Maybe it has everything to do with it. And maybe, in reality, when children feel it, it's just a lucky guess.

Who knows?

We breathe until our last breath comes forth.

But what if we never got the chance to breathe at all?

Perhaps this is the ultimate tragedy.

While the child sleeps, unaware that the storm has struck, rain falls from a man's face.

The rain is only the beginning of the storm. He is aware of this.


	2. How can we cross?

**Thanks for the reviews/fallows and favorites so soon! As for how scattered it was, I meant to make it that way, but if it didn't work out as well as I'd hoped, I apologize. From here on out I'll be writing it a lot more like I write my other stories. As with everything, I don't own Bones, nor do I own any corporation, store or product mentioned in the story. Reviews are appreciated, but I really love ya'll for even just reading. So thank you! I hope this is an altogether clearer chapter.**

* * *

They wouldn't let him into the room. This is what scared him.

He'd tried, several times, to explain that he needed to be by her side, he needed to know what was going on, but no one would tell him.

"Please, please just get someone to talk to me. I need to know what's happening. _Please, _I'm begging,"

A male nurse sighed and placed his hand on Booth's shoulder.

"I'm really, really sorry sir. I don't have any information,"

This brought on anger, causing his eyes to harden and his muscles to tense.

"I'm FBI! I could have this whole god damned place shut down! So tell me what's going on right now!" he yelled, his body tense and his knuckles clenched, ready to punch someone out. The nurse raised his hands and shook his head.

"I'm really sorry. I don't know, sir," he stated before walking away quickly.

The burst of anger had caused a young, frightened Christine to burst out in tears. When Booth heard this, the anger suddenly drained out of him as he turned around and walked over to his daughter.

"Hey, Christine. It's okay. Daddy isn't angry at you. He's just worried. Look at me, Christine," he stated, trying to coax her head up to look at him. When she finally did, she launched into her arms and cried into his shoulder.

"Daddy," she moaned, finally looking up at him. "Don't be mad, daddy…"

"I'm not, I'm not…Just…It's okay, Christine," he tried to reassure, though he was unsure himself if it really was okay. He was more worried than he had been in a long time, and that was saying something. Why was it then whenever they had an argument, something bad happened? Why was this happening to him? To them?

"Is mommy gonna be okay, daddy?" she asked, hiccupping after the end and staring into his eyes with her own. God, her eyes…Too much like Bones'. He looked away and forced a smile.

"'Course she is, baby girl,"

"What about my little sister?"

He bit his lip and, mainly because he was afraid of the future, wondered what to say.

"You're little brothers going to be just fine. You have a little brother, Christine…And he's going to be just fine, and you're going to be a great big sister, and everything's….Everything will be great. Okay?"

She nodded, and fell into his chest, exhausted once more.

He held her and tried to just focus on the little girl. Her breath warming his chest, her breathing steady. He tried to focus on these things instead of the what if's.

When a doctor came out, his eyes dark, he sat down next to Booth and put his hand on the man's arm.

"Would you mind coming with me?" he asked. Booth looked at the little girl who had fallen asleep in his arms and almost got up to bring her with him, before two other people entered the waiting room and looked at the doctor, Booth and Christine.

"Booth, what's-" Hodgins started. Booth laid Christine down gently and motioned towards the doctor, before walking with him.

"What's happening?" Booth asked nervously. The doctor stopped in front of a door and looked over at Booth. "How's my girlfriend? How's our little boy?" he asked all of these in rapid succession, afraid to hear any of the answers.

Shifting uncomfortably, the doctor looked at the door in the hospital room and rubbed his face.

"We call it an incompetent cervix…It's not common, at least not in the United States…It means that it thins and dilates before labor is supposed to happen. Causing pre-term labor, basically. We can sometimes stop it, try to fix it, but it's a guess that it accounts for one fourth of all second term miscarriages…I'm very sorry, Mr. Booth. I'm very, very sorry,"

The speech had made its way to his ears, but he'd barely registered it. It was like the stuff Bones spurted out sometimes, only this had been in normal language. He didn't want to understand it. He didn't think he could.

"But our little guys okay, right? You fixed it, right?" he asked, each plea becoming more and more desperate. The doctor shook his head.

"I'm so sorry,"

A choked sob came from his throat, as he buried his head in his hands and trying to keep himself from falling. His little boy, gone. Just like that. Just two days ago, in the morning, he had felt the baby kick. And now he was gone. Just like that. Gone.

_Zachariah_

They hadn't decided on that name, but when he'd suggested it, her eyes had lit up. She hadn't nodded, but when she'd talk to him, not matter how 'irrational' it was, he'd once heard her call him that. Zachariah.

Now, he was gone. Dead. Just like that.

They worked with death every day, and yet this stung more then he could explain.

_Our baby. _Gone.

_"He's developing really fast, Booth. Another exceptional child."_

_"Early, smart, and strong! Just like his papa,"_

Yeah, early. Really early. And this time, it wasn't a good thing.

"How…She was fine with Christine. How did this happen?"

The doctor hesitated.

"We don't always know why. It's possible that the birth of your first child may have had an impact, or it may have simply been a freak accident. We can't know."

"Nineteen weeks… Jesus…"

"You're wife was slightly more along then that. Twenty two weeks, actually. In any case, if you'd like to go see her…"

Twenty two weeks. Right. How had he lost track? Somehow, he felt deep seated guilt at this. His own son…He'd been so shocked he hadn't even corrected the wife comment.

"Yeah, yeah...Of course. The people, that just came in? The ones with my daughter? Can you tell them?" The doctor nodded.

He opened up the door slowly, and crept in. Brennan was on her side, legs to her stomach, and Booth made his way over before setting his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, Bones…" he whispered. She tensed at his touch, shrugging him off.

"Leave me alone, Booth…Just leave me alone…"

For once in his life, he was unsure of what to say to Doctor Temperance Brennan. Instead, he sat down next to her. He would have held her hand, but saw exactly where her arms were positioned. Her stomach.

So many things were rushing through his head, but instead of saying them, he cried with all of his heart and attempted to make sense of it all. Brennan never moved from her spot, back to him, but she heard the crying.

It wasn't until a while later that a nurse came in, the same male that had encountered Booth before, and spoke softly.

"If you'd like, you can hold him…It helps, sometimes. We foot print him, we write down his name…Did you guys have a name?" he asked. Booth was astounded at this young man's words, because they didn't come harshly, or awkwardly. No, it seemed like he'd either gone through this before or had done this several times. He was using the same gentle ways of a friend.

"Zachariah…Zachariah Jackson Brennan-Booth…" Brennan mumbled out, and Booth nodded, accepting the name they'd discussed.

"Zach Jack…He likes it," the man said, and turned around. Brennan did not say anything about a dead body not being able to like anything, and instead stayed stoic and silent.

"I don't…I don't want Christine to see him," she whispered, and Booth nodded. He could understand not wanting their daughter to see her little brother like that. Plus, her talking to him at least meant she wasn't totally isolated to him.

"You want me to get Ange?" he asked.

"After…We see him…Then, yeah…Please…" she whimpered out. "And Hodgins after…Does anyone else know?"

"Cam's coming over. And Sweets is letting Zack know in the morning. Bones…Do you want to talk?"

She shook her head and looked up when the man came in, and brought the little boy in wrapped in blue blankets. Zachariah. He carefully laid the boy in Brennan's arms, much like he would a new born.

He was so damned tiny…

Smaller then even Christine had been, and that's saying something. Feeling his heart clench up, Booth walked over and watched the boy.

"Hey, Zachariah…I miss you, buddy," Booth started before he started to cry again. Much in her style, Brennan did not cry. She hummed to him, said his name, said it so many times that it broke Booth.

"Booth…I love you, but can I talk to Ange? Please?" she whispered. The direct pain in her voice made him wince, but he nodded and walked out to see Angela, Hodgins, Cam and Christine. The three adults were crying, and Christine just looked confused.

"Bones…She wants you, Ange. And then Hodgins…Maybe both of you could go…Your godson is beautiful," he said, trying to speak as though the boy was alive. Of course, he was anything but.

Angela got up quickly and walked with Hodgins, though the tears streaming down her face made his heart clench.

Christine looked at her dad and blinked, tilting her head to the side.

"Daddy, is my little brother alright? He isn't sick, is he?"

Booth hesitated for a long time and then sat down, hoisting Christine up onto his lap and holding her tight.

"You're little brothers up in the sky now. Heaven. He…Couldn't stay here," he tried to explain. Christine was more then confused and blinked.

"Like Bruce?" she asked. Bruce had been a rescue dog of theirs from when Christine was much smaller, but she'd remembered him well enough.

"Yeah. You're little brothers up with Bruce, now. He gets to play with the puppy all day long,"

Christine blinked and shook her head.

"That's not fair, daddy! I never got to meet's him…He can't just leave without meeting me! Daddy, tell him to come back!"

Booth's eyes filled with tears and he held her closely, as Cam put a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"I wish I could, honey…I really wish I could,"

"Did I make him mad at me? Cuz, I didn't mean it! I promise! It's just like when Parky and I get made at each other. I didn't mean it! He knows that, right? I'm not really angry at him. I love him!"

Booth nodded, unable to form words at first.

"He knows," Booth choked out.

Christine fidgeted and leaned against her dad, eyes filled with tears.

"He'll be happy there, won't he daddy? Even if he doesn't have us?"

"He'll be happy, sweetheart…He will…"

When he finally couldn't do it anymore, Cam took the child and comforted her while Booth got up quickly and walked around the hospital, trying to gain his own composure. Perspective, he tried to think. Get perspective.

A scream was in the back of his throat, fighting to get free. It wouldn't make it's way. It never did.


	3. I've seen enough

**Another update? A gee wiz! Anyways, I'm hoping ya'll enjoy it thus far, even if it is sad. As always, I don't own Bones! Reviews are nice, but again, I love you guys for just reading!**

* * *

"Sweetie…" Angela whispered when she walked in. When she saw the bundle in her friends arms, she resisted the urge to cry and run away, but instead gripped Jacks hand tighter. Jack smiled sadly at Brennan and tugged at Angela to try and reassure her.

"Hey, Dr. B." he stated sadly, and Angela fallowed him, her eyes filled with tears.

"Bren…I'm…I'm so sorry, sweetie," she whimpered. Looking up at them, Brennan attempted a smile but then just looked down.

"He looks just like Booth, doesn't he?" Hodgins tried, although his eyes too were filling with tears. Brennan smiled slightly and nodded, brushing her hand across his forehead every so often, trying to get the empty feeling away from her chest.

"Zachariah Jackson…" she whispered. "That's…That would have been his name,"

Hodgins eyes softened as he shook his head, and Angela held in a deep sob.

"Zach and Jack…Good combo, Dr. B. Troublemaker," he tried, and while he could see her eyes filling with tears, the soft sound of something that resembled a chuckle made his heart lighten a little. "Can I touch him?" he asked. Brennan looked up and held him out. Jack took the bundle in his arms and tried talking.

"Hey, buddy…Names Jack. You would have called me Uncle Jack, probably, just like your little sister…You know, you and Michael could have caused one hell of a scene." He whispered. When he felt his heart wrench painfully, however, he started to hand him back to Brennan, who looked hopefully up at Ange.

She shook her head.

"I'm sorry…I…I can't…" Ange managed to pipe out, before she turned around and started to walk out. Brennan looked up at Hodgins and an apology started on her lips, but he shook his head.

"Hey, it's alright…" he started before the tears ran more freely down her own face and she tried to wipe them away. Hodgins pulled a chair up and brushed away her tears, not unlike she had done for him when they'd been trapped in that damn car. Looking into her eyes, he saw the depths of pain that she'd been holding from everyone, and he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"It's illogical…"

"No, it's not," he cut her off. "You just lost a part of yourself. You're allowed to feel that. Every mother mourns her own," he stated.

They stayed silent. Inside of Brennan's mind, she was saying his name like a mantra. Jack, he was thinking about how unfair all of it was, but more than that. He was thinking about how sick it was that all of this had to happen to his family. Because, really, she was his family. A sister in law, really. A sister.

"You can tell Zach, if you want. You can tell him about…About the name…"

While he knew what she meant, that she meant that he could tell Zach Uriah Addy about Zachariah's name, he got up and looked at the child's face.

"Well, buddy, you were named for one hell of a scientist, and one hell of a good friend. And he would have loved you. So, so much. Just like we all would have. Just like we all do," he said, and then looked at Brennan, who was about to explain her statement.

"I know, Dr. B. But he deserves to know. He deserves to know about his Uncle Zach,"

She didn't go against this one. When Angela finally came back in, Jack started to get up.

"I'm just going to call home and make sure that Michaels okay with the sitter, okay? And maybe see about Christine going to see her best friend," he stated before kissing his wife and smiling sadly at Brennan.

Angela slowly made her way to her best friend, but kept her eyes trained on Brennan's face.

"You don't have to stay, Ange…It's okay," she tried to reassure her, but Angela shook her head.

"I can just…I can see what he'd have looked like, you know? I can see it," she whispered. "And I don't want to know,"

What he'd have looked like, what he'd have become. These things, too, Brennan could see. They comforted her, however.

"He'd have been handsome," Brennan stated, trying to let her know that she, too, could see these things. "And maybe he would have played an instrument, or played football. Or maybe he would have been a scholar. And maybe…And maybe…"

The thought was broken off as a wave of sobs came through her. Angela, not shocked and not thinking about it, climbed onto the bed, cot really, and wrapped her arms around her friends neck, coaxing her to lay her head into her shoulder.

"We make our lives out of chaos, love and hope," Angela stated, like she'd once said to Brennan in the desert. Brennan nodded into her shoulder and Angela closed her eyes, holding onto her friend tightly, not wanting to let go. Wanting to protect the fragile girl that she had met years ago.

When she'd finally calmed down, Angela didn't leave her. Something in her gut told her that was the wrong thing to do, and she was proven correct when Brennan shook her head.

"Please, don't leave me…No one else would understand,"

While the sadness, the pain that tugged at her heart was almost unbearable, she knew that if she left Brennan like this, she may not recover. She may not ever trust her again. Angela shook her head.

"Never…Do you want Booth?" she offered, because although she was there, she wasn't sure if she could do everything right, not like Booth could. Booth could repair her, or perhaps he could attempt it. Angela could simply comfort.

Bren shook her head and sighed.

"We had a fight…" she mumbled. "We had a fight…Maybe me being so upset…Maybe that's why…"

Angela cut her off and shook her head.

"No. It was an accident. Okay? None of this is your fault or his fault. And we can mourn, but we don't blame. Okay, sweetie? Okay?" she hoped to reassure. Brennan nodded.

There was no movement for a while, until finally Brennan moved her hand over to her friends abdomen. For a moment, Angela tensed and shook her head, not wanting to upset Brennan more, but when she felt her friend relax in her arms, she said nothing.

"You're a great mom, Angela…For Michael and for your next little one…"

Ange reached out and laid her hand on Brennan' shoulder.

"You're a great mom too, Brennan. Don't forget that. To Christine and Parker, you're a great mom. You still have them," she tried to reassure. Nodding slowly, Brennan looked at the child and then leaned back, once more the calm and rational Brennan they'd all known.

Angela's eyes traced to the boy's face, and for a moment she almost looked away, until she found that it almost calmed her for a moment. The boy's face was peaceful, and maybe that's what reassured her. He'd been innocent to the evils of the world. Perhaps that was the one good thing they could pull from it. The last thing he'd have felt was the safety of his mother.

"He loves you," she said simply, looking up. "He loved you so much."

"Baby's are incapable of love…It's an attachment formed by-"

"He loved you, Bren. He really did,"

Silence again.

"I just…I feel incomplete," she whimpered. Missing. A part of her was missing. Angela nodded sympathetically.

"I know," she tried. "I know…"

_It's like I can't even breathe, sweetie, I can't even take a breath…_

Oh, how she knew…


	4. It's Not Hard to Fall

**As always, thanks a lot for reading and reviewing, fallowing and favoriting! It means a lot. As always, I don't own Bones, and I love ya'll. **

* * *

"Hey, man," Jack started, as he walked towards Booth, hands in his pockets.

Booth looked up, quickly hardening his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, leaned against the wall and nodded, hoping that the tears that glistened down his cheeks weren't as visible as they felt.

"What do you want, Hodgins?" Booth started, but Hodgins simply smiled and shrugged.

"I know this is hard. I wanted to offer to take Christine for a little while. You know, so you can focus or whatever. Our baby sister…I called her and asked her if she'd be cool taking another kid, and Michael's pretty excited over the idea,"

Booth felt a wave of gratitude over this, even though he wouldn't show it, and nodded.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks. Maybe get her mind off of things," he stated, running his hand through his hair for about the hundredth time that day.

_Not to mention keep my mind ON things._

He'd been skipping between half realization and total realization over the whole experience, trying to wrestle with his anger as well as his grief. Half of him wanted to yell at the sky, asking why them, but another half of him wanted to just blame himself. There was also the irrational feeling of anger towards his first born daughter, something he needed to get over quickly. It wasn't her fault. Any more then it was his or Bones' fault.

_Did he really believe that? _

Bones would be coming home soon, and he had to hold strong for her. He couldn't be angry, no matter how much it was pounding in his chest. He had to be the rock, the center. He had to hold.

"I'll take her, if you want," Hodgins offered. Another wave of relief as Booth nodded. "Alright…Hey, Booth. I'm really sorry, man," he started, but Booth held up his hand and shook his head. He didn't want to hear this speech from Hodgins.

He walked away and Booth slowly fallowed him, until he saw an excited Christine jump into Hodgins' arms before he let her go and she ran to him.

"Daddy, can I go see Michael?" she asked, and mainly from reflex, he ruffled her hair, bent down and kissed her forehead, before nodding.

"Go have fun, Christine," he said. Although she noticed that he wasn't using the term that he usually did with her, Chrissy, she ignored it and bounded off.

"Take care of her!" Booth yelled down the hall, and Hodgins turned around, half smiling.

"Course, man. Wouldn't dream of doing anything different,"

When they disappeared down the hallway, he sat down slowly next to Cam.

"I really fuck things up, don't I Camille?"

She sighed and wrapped an arm around his back, shaking her head.

"We had a fight. A bad one…I don't know what came over me…For a moment, I just…I felt like _him_," he stated, referencing his father and slumping his shoulders. Everything _hurt. _Not in the physical sense, but the emotional one. His heart hurt, his mind hurt. Everything just hurt. It felt like he was fighting an internal war, one that he could never win, and one that he didn't really want to win. He wanted to succumb.

"You aren't him, Seeley. I know that's hard to believe sometimes, but you aren't. You're a good father. You're a good friend. And you're a good partner," she said. "You're just stubborn as hell sometimes,"

This warranted a chuckle from him. Leave it to Camille to make him feel a little better.

"What was the fight about?" she asked. He sighed.

"I'd…Well, you know what date it is, don't you?" he asked, and Cam shook her head, slightly confused. "This was…It was his birthday. And I guess I was just…Remembering all the times that he'd come home, hammered, and I'd take the hit for Jared or for myself, and I was just…I was angry, Cam. And then Bones was so obsessed over that last case, she was never home. I just wanted my partner. And I hadn't had her for the past two weeks, not like I wanted her, not like I _needed_ her, and then she came in late today of all days, and I just…I snapped…"

She remained silent and pulled away, rubbing her temple.

"Were you aware of how the victim of the past couple of weeks died?" Cam asked slowly, hoping the answer was no. Booth looked up and shook his head, realizing rather quickly that he hadn't. He'd been preoccupied, letting the squints do most of the work for him for the past couple of weeks. Whenever Bones talked about it, he'd been on autopilot. Even the night of the argument, in the last attempt to make him understand, he hadn't listened.

"No. How did she die?"

Cam took in a sharp breath and shook her head.

"Joy Manning was killed by being stuffed into a car trunk by her foster father after she dropped a pot of soup onto the floor, burning not only herself but her foster father,"

And now he was listening. Because everything came into place, then.

_Joy? Is that you?_

_My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan…_

_My foster parents locked me in the trunk of a car for 2 days when I broke a dish. I was a very clumsy child. They warned me it would happen, but the water was so hot and the soap was so slippery. I still don't think it was fair, even though they gave me fair warning. The water was so hot._

The tears that had ran down her face that day, the fear and anxiety laced into her voice, years after it had happened. How had he not seen the pain in her own eyes? Had he been so focused on his own pain that he'd ignored Bones'?

"How…How did you know about that story?" he asked, shakily, realizing how utterly wrong it was that his best friend had realized what was happening before he had. She shook her head.

"Angela noticed her sudden obsession and asked her about it. I walked in on the conversation by accident and may have overstayed my welcome. Booth…Do you know how much attention she paid to those bones?"

Yeah, he'd known. But so far as he'd been concerned, she was doing it to pester him, or to ignore him and his family. He'd been jealous of the girl, partially, but it was more then that. She'd come so far and had dropped back into her old habits in a matter of days. She had a family know.

A family that hadn't even noticed her hurt.

"I'd just thought…" he dropped out and lowered his head. "What if that's what made it happen? What if she was so stressed out…What if…"

Cam shook her head.

"It was stupid of you, but no. It wasn't you're fault. Okay, Seeley?" she tried, though he could barely keep his head up. He didn't believe it. In his heart, he at least somewhat blamed himself.

"Zachariah," he whispered, closing his eyes. Cam looked down at him. "That would have been his name."

"It's a beautiful name," Cam stated, rubbing his back softly. "A good name,"

She got up slowly and offered her hand.

"Now we're going to walk around the hospital, and we're going to go see Doctor Brennan after a while. But first, we're going to get you food,"

"I want to see her now…" he whispered, though he knew from Brennan's previous response, _leave me alone, Booth, _that that wouldn't be the first thing on her mind.

"Let Angela talk to her for a little while. She's known her longer. And she know's what Brennan's going through," she stated. Very much so. But no one wanted to talk about that, not now, they didn't want to think about it. They didn't want to think about that day, that case.

Somewhere inside of his head, Booth was thinking, 'We didn't deserve this.'

He'd been thinking the same thing that day.

But no, they wouldn't think about it.

No use doubling their pain.

* * *

**So, what do you all think? I usually hate ending on a note, it actually bothers me to no end, but I want to say that I will clarify about Angela, it wasn't just randomly thrown in, and yes, everything read may get angsty and or sad. Again, thank you to everyone and I hope you all have wonderful days!**


	5. Love Taught Me to Lie

**Alrighty! Thanks to everyone for reading, fallowing, reviewing and favoriting! It really means a lot. A couple of the moments in this chapter are short and to the point to try and display the kind of 'un-realness' of it all, out of body feeling. Again, I don't own Bones, and I love you guys! Have a great day!**

* * *

No, no one wanted to think about that day. Even if it was on everyone's mind. Despite the suddenness of what was happening, they all knew that part of the reason Brennan had wanted Angela so bad wasn't only because of their friendship. It wasn't only because of her slight unease around Booth right then.

Because Brennan had been here as well, opposite of Angela, her arms around her friend as she sobbed into her arms.

That day had been a case day. A normal day. Angela had come with Booth for a case, he'd wanted her to take pictures of the crime scene, when a car had crashed into the side of his vehicle.

Granted, the hero complex in Booth was strong, as it always was, and he hopped out to fetch Ange. Hit and run, the driver hadn't even cared, but then, by that time, Booth was more concerned for the artist.

After a bystander saw what had happened, she called 911 while Booth attempted to render medical aid. At the time, it hadn't looked bad, though Ange was knocked out cold. There was blood, a lot of it, but it wasn't until later at the hospital that they found out exactly what had caused the majority of it.

Twelve weeks pregnant. The crash…Well, it had terminated it. No one had known about it except for Hodgins, Brennan and, obviously, Angela.

The actual injuries weren't horrible. A broken rib that hadn't damaged any organs, some bruising. Nothing that lasted more than a little then two days in the hospital. It wasn't the physical part of the injuries that had worried them. Not really.

It wasn't only the chance of the child being born blind that would ward Angela and Hodgins from having another kid. It had been that memory as well.

At the time, Angela had reached for any sign that everything would be okay, and Brennan attempted to make it so. Of course, the awkwardness that was Temperance Brennan amazed most, but at the time, Angela had found it a comfort that her friend hadn't changed and was trying. That had been the biggest thing.

That had been four years ago. As much as everyone had hated the incident, they'd moved on. Angela had moved on, to a point.

The thing was, though, that Angela could understand the difference in their situation as her friend lay in the hospital bed. Brennan had felt the kid kick, she'd been feeling him kick for a month or more. And Booth had felt it outwardly only a couple days earlier. There was more physical evidence, which Temperance Brennan usually adored. This time, however, the evidence wasn't good. It didn't lead to a conclusion of satisfaction or knowing the whole truth. It just leads to heart ache.

"We should have a funeral for him," Angela suggested. Brennan looked up and furrowed her brows, shaking her head, trying to cover up her own pain with masking logic.

"That isn't reasonable, Angela. The mere grieving ritual is meant so share memories…We don't have any memories,"

Angela licked her lips and tried to find a way that she could explain it to Brennan in a way that wouldn't hurt as much, even though her words were like a sock in the gut. She hesitated and blinked.

"Sweetie, I know you don't like to grieve, you like to push things away, but anthropologically…Isn't it normal for societies to grieve? You just lost a literal part of you. Even Hodgins and I grieved for longer then I'd have guessed was possible…And it's a way of telling him you love him."

"The dead can't feel or know anything, Ange…"

"But you can. And so can Booth. And the rest of our family, we can all feel that you love him. It's…A way of laying to rest the way we feel, sweetie. It's more for the living then…" she couldn't finish, and choked off. Brennan, surprised, nodded and gripped her friends hand.

"Okay. Sure. If you think….If you think it'll…Help," she tried, trying to keep her own tears from spilling. It was everything, really. Exhaustion, hormones, grief. All mixed into a messy bundle.

"Okay," Angela stated, and tried to smile at her friend, to let her know everything was alright, but that would have been a lie, so she cut off and tried to stop the tears from flowing down her face.

They stayed silent for a long time, until Brennan stated, rather sheepishly, "I'm really tired…"

Nodding, Angela started to get up to leave her be when she said rather quickly,

"Please…Don't go…"

It was more then a plea, really. It was the obvious fear of a child that was afraid of being left alone. The fear hadn't come from Dr. Temperance Brennan's mouth, no, it had come from a young Temperance, a child alone in the world and fearing that she would suddenly have no one else left. Angela smiled and sat back down, biting her lip.

"I was just stretching, sweetie. I wouldn't leave you,"

As much of a lie as that was, it seemed to comfort the doctor, who instantly relaxed and leaned back. Angela was reminded of the time when they'd shared an apartment together, or the time in the desert when neither had wanted to be left alone. As Brennan fell asleep, she just hoped that Booth would be here at least twice as much as Angela would be able to.

* * *

The funeral, if you could call it that, was short and depressing. That's about the best you could get from it. Max offered to come and help out whenever they needed it, Russ had offered the same. Jared had offered his sympathies and had gone off to drink.

Every squint was mostly quiet, and everyone noticed, with a lot of sadness, that whenever Booth would attempt to wrap his arm around Brennan, she would shrug him off.

Everyone noticed, but because they were afraid to do so, no one mentioned it.

* * *

Max had come for the week to help take care of Christine.

"Grandpa!" Christine yelled eagerly as the man came into the house. He had laughed and nodded, hoisting her up to get a better look.

"Hey, Chrissy! Now, there's someone I haven't seen a while. You grew quick!"

"I been eating my veggy-tables," she nodded and Max chuckled before he kissed her on the cheek.

"Where's your mommy and daddy?" he asked, not seeing anyone around. Christine put her finger over her lips and made a shhh sound.

"Mommy's sleeping and daddy's upstairs. He was helping me make a lego house!" she said, then hushed herself. Max looked upstairs and nodded.

"Let's go help him, huh?" he offered, and Christine clapped her hands excitedly before running upstairs, almost tripping twice and going into her bedroom. When Max caught up, he glanced into the master bedroom and saw that no one was there.

Booth was on the floor, absently putting two pieces together and stacking them, trying to make it perfect and symmetrical, while Christine was putting random pieces together and stacking them on top.

"That's a great house, you two," Max said, lowering himself to the floor. Booth looked up, numbly, and nodded his head.

"Yeah! We're making a castle!" Christine stated excitedly. Max smiled and ruffled her hair.

"Where's Tempe?" Max asked, and while he meant it to be nonchalant, it sounded almost accusatory. Booth pursed his lips and nodded down, closing his eyes.

"She's in the guest bedroom downstairs. She won't sleep in our bedroom," he stated, exhausted, pained eyes boring into the older man as though daring him to confront him on this matter. Instead, Max simply nodded and started to get up.

"Do you mind if I check on her?" Booth looked down at Christine and shrugged.

"If the little princess doesn't mind," he tried to joke. Christine looked up in surprise and nodded.

"Do you think you can make Mommy feel better, Grandpa?"

"I'm her daddy. Of course I can," he tried, though he wasn't any more sure of that then he was that he was feeling a hundred percent. Walking downstairs, he knocked twice on the bedroom door before he walked in on his daughter, laying on her side, back to him.

Silence.

"Tempe. I'm really sorry," he started, walking up and trying to get her to turn towards him.

She simply curled up more, not answering and instead ignoring him.

"I know this has to be hard. But it'll be harder if you don't let people in. Come on, Tempe…Just look at me,"

At this, she whipped around and stared at him, her body quivering, eyes red. Staring at him, she could almost feel the anger radiating off of her own body.

"What, Dad? What do you want?" she asked, attempting to snarl this at him, to try and get him to leave her alone, but instead it came out as a pathetic whimper. He stared at her and shook his head.

"Oh, Tempe…"

She pulled away from his attempt to hug her and shook her head.

"Leave me alone, Dad. Just go play with Christine and help Booth out. I'll be out later," she said angrily, curling into herself, trying to stop the shaking. Max closed his eyes.

"I love you, Tempe. Okay? You can talk to me. You know that, right?" he said, but she shook her head instead.

"Leave me alone, Dad…"

He hesitated before turning around and opening the door.

"I'll be here for as long as you need me. We can talk. Okay? I'm not leaving this time,"

Once more, he was met with silence. Walking away, he tried to ignore the faint gnawing that he'd done something wrong.

_I have no idea what I'm doing._


	6. I'll Love You Forever

**I really, really want to thank everyone for the response! It's very helpful in continuing. I was to say, first off, that the ending of my last chapter was not actually an end note. My notes will always be bolded, for future reference. Usually the italicized words will be thoughts or writing, or of course, emphasis. Of course, I'm not going to lie, I'm really not totally sure of everything and will likely make mistakes.**

**If you don't like explinations or want to hear any insight into my life, then feel free to skip. I'm just explaining why I felt compelled to write this chapter.**

**It came to me while I was actually thinking about some things my mom and I used to do together. When I was little, my mom used to read me a book called "Love You Forever", a book written by Robert Munsch. It was a children's book, and to tell you the truth, I actually hated it, even as a kid. I don't exactly know why, but I think my mom read it to me a total of three times, maybe, and I never wanted to hear it again. **

** The book didn't stick with me, but my mom and I adapted a ritual after reading it. Right after tucking me into bed and shutting my door, she would start much in the way that Christine started. We would alternate the lines, "I'll love you forever/I'll like you for always/as long as I'm living/My baby ("Or my mommy" for me)/you'll be". When she went into surgery for her back, she even recorded the little saying for me to listen to every night if we didn't get to talk to each other.**

**I got older, of course. As I did, I didn't feel the need to either be tucked in, nor to do the little sang. My mom figured that out pretty quick too, and didn't dwell on it. While I was in middle school, however, she was diagnosed with stomach cancer. She fought for three years, but died due to complications with chemotherapy. **

**At the time, I'd went through rough emotions. There were points where I felt alone, sick in grief. I felt as though I were grieving my mom before she were even dead. Really, as anyone who's seen the effects of chemo can tell you, there were times when I was pretty sure she was dead. The thing was, though, she could still pick up my moods. And occasionally she would whisper those words to me to try and get me to smile. It worked.**

**Those words were also some of the last words I heard from her, followed by "I'll see you in the morning, squirtal".**

** Today is her birthday, and I've been focusing on those words. I wanted to write something for her, so I guess this is it for now, until I get skilled enough to write something powerful and changing. So Happy Birthday, Mom.**

**_This chapter is dedicated to you._**

* * *

_Dr. Brennan, _

_I'm sincerely sorry to hear about what happened. I was excited when Sweet's brought me the news that it was a baby boy, but it seems the mood was brought down rather quick. I've been trying to call you, but it seems as though no one is picking up. Which I suppose is fine. Hodgins told me his name, and I'm quite honored, though I've always been confused on the significance of naming a child after another person you know. I wanted to try and get out to talk to you, but Sweets is adamant about staying in. I'm unsure how I feel about this._

_Do know, however, that I do believe that you'd have made a great mother for him, just as you are to Christine. In my years in the Jeffersonian, I don't believe I found a better home then while I was there with you. I know that if you can do so for a stranger, you can certainly do so for one of your own. It's instincts._

_Perhaps, if you'd like, you can come visit me at some point. Like I said, I'm unable to get out at this point in time, or else I'd make the trip to see you. I'd enjoy seeing Christine again, but I know how Booth feels about bringing her here often._

_Call if you can. It's quite lonely among dull minds here._

_Zach Uriah Addy_

Sweets handed this letter to Booth, who in turn snuck into the guest room and placed it on the table next to her bed. He waited for a moment, watching her sleep, before almost walking out.

"Booth? That you?" Brennan asked sleepily, though her voice cracked from lack of use. Booth swallowed and nodded before realizing she couldn't see him.

"Yeah. It's me Bones. You need anything?" he asked softly, resisting the urge to kneel down next to her and hold her.

"No. I'm okay. What'd you come in here for?"

Booth tried to keep the gut punch from reaching him, but it did, and he felt as though she were denying him completely, telling him to leave her be, isolate herself. He wanted to shout, 'Hey, I'm hurting too! Why can't we just talk to each other?' before he realized that he'd been hoping she didn't need him.

"Zach…Wrote you a letter. It's next to your bed if you want to read it. You okay with stir fry for dinner?" he asked. If he'd have been watching her face, he would have seen her cringe and her face clench up at the mere thought, but she nodded.

"Sure. Sure,"

As he was about to walk out, Brennan called for him again.

"Hey, Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"I…I'm sorry…"

The suddenness of this made him blink in confusion as he turned around and started towards her again, sitting on the edge of the bed this time. It was strange. This was the closest he'd been to Bones in days. Cam had given her time off, lots of it, and she'd spent most of it here.

"What are you sorry for, Bones?" he asked softly, trying to urge her to turn around and face him. When she finally twisted around, she looked up at him hopelessly.

"For the baby…For our fight…For being here instead of with you and Christine…"

Booth stayed silent, patting down her hair, though she flinched away from him on multiple occasions.

"I understand. I really do," he stated, though he bit his lip when he saw her eyes harden quickly.

"You understand? Okay. Sure. You understand. Now _leave," _she stated, pointing at the door and turning away from him. He cursed himself and pulled away quickly, walking out and closing the door as softly as possible.

The anger that went through her veins…That was irrational. It didn't make sense. Still, she felt it. She felt the anger, the exhaustion. It was as though someone had taken every strong emotion she'd ever felt in her life and put it into her. Worst of all, she found it impossible to even enjoy small things. Things like sleep, like food, like her anthropology journals. Nothing made her happy or helped.

Loneliness, guilt. Shame at not being able to deal.

Everything was too much.

Sometimes she couldn't understand what people were saying, but now she understood how people could feel all of these things. She'd believed emotions were for the weak, but she was strong, wasn't she? Why was she feeling all these sudden emotions, she asked herself. Why me?

So it wasn't until much later that she picked up Zach's letter and read it carefully. She was analyzing it, really, but even that she found little joy in. When she was done, she put it down and breathed a soft sigh of relief that Zach wasn't angry at her. She didn't think she could deal with that.

Still, she found no joy in it, and had to store away into memory that she should call him at a later date.

* * *

Christine and Max both were in the living room, playing with a wide variety of toys and trying to take over, as Christine called it, the "Dragon Kingdom".

"See, Parker has the Dragon Kingdom and I have the Princess Kingdom. He says that little kids aren't allowed in the Dragon Kingdom, but Prince said that I could have his army and go in and take over the land! Can you help me Grandpa?"

"Sure, sure. I know a thing or two about kingdoms," he stated, helping her plot out in detail how to "take over" Parkers land.

"You two! Get out here. We're eating," Booth called, setting the table for three instead of four. Christine wiggled up and looked at where Brennan usually sat, before looking up at Booth.

"Mommy's not eating wit us?" she asked sadly.

"No, I don't think so sweetie. You want to go check?" Booth asked, though he already knew the answer. She was never hungry. He put left overs in the fridge, but knew that if he tried to make her eat, she'd just freak out at him. She'd get hungry sooner or later, he guessed.

Christine nodded and climbed down, running to the guest room before tumbling in, and sitting on Brennan's bed.

"Mommy? Are you gonna eat wit us?" she asked, shaking Brennan. She looked up at Christine, smiled and shook her head.

"Not today, sweetie…Mommy isn't feeling very good."

Christine's eyes widened as she sat back and tilted her head.

"Does you're tummy hurt, mommy? Cuz I can gets you medicine! You and daddy always get me medicine when I feel sick, and it helps me feel better."

Brennan smiled softly and shook her head.

"Not that kind of not feeling well, sweetie. Just sad,"

"Because little brother moved away to Heaven?" she asked curiously. Brennan had to keep herself from scoffing, and barely did so. Sighing, she nodded.

"Yeah. I miss him," she admitted. Christine laid down, totally ignoring the call for food she'd just been issued earlier, and tried to snuggle into her mother's arms.

"I miss him too, Mommy. Even if he was a boy like Parker. And I still loves him, even if he moved away from us," she stated, with all the sureness that a child could muster. Brennan suppressed a chuckle, that developed into a sob. Christine looked surprised.

"Don't be sad, Mommy! Little brother loves you too, I know it!"

"How's that, Christine?"

"Cuz I love you. And if I love you, and Parker loves you, and Daddy loves you, then of course little brother would love you! Maybe Bruce needed someone to play with…I don't know why he left, but it isn't cuz he didn't love you, Mommy!" she stated knowingly, nodding. Brennan choked back another sob and held Christine tightly to her.

"I love you, baby. Don't forget that, okay?"

"I loves you forever!"

Brennan quickly caught onto the childhood game and story and smiled.

"I'll like you for always."

"As long as I'm living!"

"My baby you'll be…"

It continued afterwards, the exchange, only this time Brennan would start and Christine would end with "My mommy you'll be".

It hadn't been one of Brennan's favorite books to read Christine, but the game had become something of theirs after a while. When Brennan had once more been at the hospital after a case, Christine had clambered up and shared the idea that they do it every night, so neither one ever forgot how much they meant to the other.

While it was irrational, Brennan had played into it. It had been a while since she'd actually tucked Christine in and had had a chance to say it to her.

It hurt really bad, though. It hurt so much.

"Mommy, do you think you'll feel better tomorrow?" Christine asked, and Brennan smiled a little bit.

"We'll see, honey…Go eat, okay?"

Christine nodded, but hugged her mom one more time before running out. The sound of their rhyme played in Brennan's head, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a tad bit of relief.

Short lived relief, but you take what you can get.


	7. Wisdom

**Short update! Thanks again to everyone, I'm not totally sure when I'll be able to update again, so I wrote this. Thanks to everyone!**

* * *

The next day, both Booth and Christine were sitting in the living room watching TV. While Christine seemed preoccupied by the characters, Booth was mainly staring off into space.

"Daddy…Daddy!" Christine whined, until Booth finally looked down at her and attempted a smile. "Daddy, I asked-ed you a question…"

"What is it, kiddo?"

"Is you and mommy going back to work soon?" she asked curiously. Booth bit his lip and shrugged.

"Possibly, yeah. I'm not sure. Why?"

Christine shrugged and looked down at her lap, before crawling down and sitting on the floor.

"Christine. You answer when people ask you questions. Why?"

Christine snuggled down and shrugged again, before blinking her eyes.

"Cuz I thought that maybe if you and mommy went back to work, that maybe you and mommy would start acting like you used to…" she muttered.

For a second, Booth hoped that he'd misheard. That in reality, his daughter just wanted them to go back so that she could go back to preschool and see her friends. He'd hoped she hadn't noticed anything was wrong with him and Bones. He'd hoped she'd thought everything was fine.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Mommy's sick and you're mad at me…" she stated, though this time she got up and acted like she was about to leave.

"Where are you going, Christine?" he asked, almost sharply, when she started to walk away.

"Room, Daddy…"

"Why are you leaving? We're having a conversation. Stay with me. Help me understand. Why do you think I'm mad at you, Christine?"

The little girl fidgeted until Booth patted the couch for her to sit next to him. Grudgingly, she trudged over and sat down, laying her head in her hands.

"Cuz you don't call me Chrissy anymore, and you never play wit me, and your eyes are like they are when you get home from work…You aren't acting like Daddy…" she stated, feeling tears prickle in her eyes, partially because she was afraid of getting in trouble. Christine crossed her arms over her chest.

Booth, surprised, held back a frustrated gasp or an exasperated tone. He stared at her for a long time and tried to think of a proper response. How do you respond to that? What was he supposed to say?

"Christine…I…"

Guilt, that was the first thing he felt. Guilt, because he hadn't even realized he hadn't been using their nickname. Guilt for not noticing that Christine could be hurt by what was happening. Guilt, guilt, guilt. Anger, too, because children shouldn't have to see this side of their parents. He cursed himself and pulled Christine closer, wrapping his arms around her.

"Chrissy, I'm so, so sorry. I'm not angry at you,"

Guilt for lying to her. Because as irrational as his anger was, he was angry at everyone, including Christine, because her birth could have had something to do with it. It wasn't fair to blame a child, but then, was it fair to blame anyone? He felt guilt for this too, for wanting to blame his daughter for what was happening.

"Did I make little brother go away? Is that why you're mad and Mommy doesn't come out? I didn't mean it daddy! I promise! Just like I said before, I didn't mean it!"

Booth stroked her light blond hair and looked her in the eyes.

"No. No. None of this is your fault. Okay? I'm just angry at the world. Sometimes Mommy's and Daddy's get angry at the world, but it isn't your fault. Okay?"

Her worried, pained eyes made him want to hold her longer, tighter, but he found it hard to even think about such things. He took in a deep breath and shut his eyes.

"Are you angry at God, Daddy?" she asked.

It's incredible, Booth thought, the extension of children's wisdom. We assume that they're young and stupid, and yet they manage to pick things up about us that we can't even pick up about ourselves. When Christine stared at him and asked him that question, he had no choice but to nod.

"Yeah, baby. I'm a little mad at Him too," he stated. Christine nodded, and didn't comment on that, but instead curled into his lap and hugged his leg.

"Daddy?" she started, and Booth looked down.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I'm mad at Him too. For making you and Mommy sad…" she stated, and Booth's heart wrenched. However, he couldn't do anything about it, and kept his head up. Tears flowed freely.

Yeah, sometimes children have a little bit of wisdom.

Sometimes they have a whole lot.

Booth wondered if this was a good or bad thing.


	8. Help me to help you

**Thank you to everyone! I really loved all the positive feed back. As with all things, this may be angsty, depressing, etc. Mentions of certain triggering topics such as suicide or depression could be mentioned. If you don't think you can read it, then please, pass this story by. I don't want anyone feeling horrid because of my stories. I love you all. Reviews are appreciated. Thank you all and I hope you have a wonderful week!**

* * *

_"Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these; 'It might have been." _

* * *

Booth was anxious.

Perhaps anxious was more of an understatement, but he couldn't find a word that would describe what he was feeling. If Bones had been half with it or reading his thoughts, she might have suggested, 'Solicitous, overwrought, unquiet'. However, Bones wasn't out here with him and, in fact, it was mostly her that was causing his worry.

Nothing was changing.

She wasn't letting him in.

He wasn't even sure if she was eating like she should be. He'd found some left overs in the trash, something that Bones wouldn't have done before. She didn't waste. She never wasted. So what the hell was going on?

Really, he was desperate. He didn't know what to do.

Grabbing the phone, he started to dial the number before hanging up. He did so again twice before he let out a loud sigh and picked it up once more, dialing the number slowly until he heard the sound of ringing. Closing his eyes, Booth prayed that someone was home.

_'Ello, Hodgin's residence. Jack speaking,'_

"Hodgins…Thank god…Look, is Angie there? I need to talk to her…"

_'Yeah, she's here. What's up, G-man? How's it going?"_

"I'm hoping maybe Ange could figure that one out…"

There was silence, and the sound of a phone being exchanged between hands, rustling, before the sound of Angela's voice came onto the speaker.

_'Hey, Booth. How's it going?'_

"Look, I don't mean to bother you but…Bones is acting off. And getting worse. And I know there's nothing I can do, she won't let me in, but I think maybe you can get through to her. Can you go in and talk to her?"

_'…Booth?'_

"Yeah?"

'_What exactly do you mean by off…'_

"Look, I know that it's good to grieve and I'm grieving too, but she won't leave the guest room, Ange. She won't eat as far as I can tell. She's throwing food away, Ange. That isn't her,"

_'Booth…'_

"And I know that it's not fair to think that she can just bounce back, but even you were doing stuff-" He cut off suddenly and bit his tongue, cursing himself. He could never say the right thing. Damn, he really needed to shut up.

There was silence on the other end of the line as Booth tried to think of something to repair what he'd just said.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for,"

Silence again, until a tight breath was taken in on the other end.

_'It's okay. I'll be over there soon.'_

"Ange, I'm-"

_'Save it, Booth,' _an exasperated tone mumbled back, and he closed his eyes before shutting off the phone and tilting his head back. Damn, this sucked. This all sucked so freaking bad. When had he let his tongue slip this much? Suddenly, Booth jumped up when the phone rang again and he picked it up sharply.

"Booth,"

'_Hey. Ange is coming over. If I slip in with her, you want to go out for a drink or something while the girls talk?'_

For a second, Booth hesitated, thinking it was a trap or something, but he suddenly realized that he was very much up for a drink. Christine was at the zoo with Max, so they didn't have to worry about her, and Brennan might be less likely to talk if he was in the house. Anyways, he'd wanted to talk to Hodgins soon. He'd wanted to understand some things.

"Sure. I'll get my billfold and I'll be waiting outside."

_'On me, man. Drinks are on me,'_

Booth accepted this and hung up, sticking his hands in his pocket and walking outside. He didn't even stop by the guest room door to check on Brennan.

He was so damned exhausted.

* * *

Right after Hodgins had pulled in, Angela crawled out and Booth climbed in, not even nodding at Angela. Really, Ange didn't pay much attention to him either. Everyone seemed to be ignoring each other.

Hodgins and Booth both drove in silence, and Booth was happy for this. A silent drinking buddy is a good drinking buddy. Doesn't get too much info out of you.

They stopped in front of the Founding Fathers and both walked in, before Booth ordered a beer and Hodgins ordered rum and coke. Sitting in silence once more, Hodgins finally broke the barrier.

"Hey. Look. I know what this feels like. I know how much it hurts. But you got to buck the fuck up G-man,"

Booth suddenly turned his head and almost snarled at him. His eyes glimmered with anger suddenly, and Hodgins brought up his hands in defense.

"Don't get me wrong. But the way you've been neglecting Christine, shrugging her off onto Max. That isn't cool. And more so, when we took her the other day, she was almost in tears, man. She thinks you're ticked at her. Really, really ticked at her. And don't get me started on you and Dr. B-"

"Bones can deal with things herself! She doesn't need me! She's made that perfectly clear!" Booth came back. He didn't have a comment on anything with Christine. Because that was true. He had no excuse. He didn't want an excuse. He just…He couldn't look at her.

"She's hurting, man! Don't you get that? And you are too. You don't just leave a woman in a bedroom to weep alone, that's what cowards do! You aren't a coward! Cowards also shove their kids onto other people when they can't handle them. I'm fine with taking her, but she better damned well know her dad loves her when I do! Got it?" he stated, shoving Booth slightly. Booth almost snapped and pushed him back, but he was so tired, so exasperated, he couldn't.

"How the hell did you do this with Angela, Hodgins? Huh? How the hell'd you do it?"

Jack was silent for a long time and rubbed his eyes before taking a long drink and slamming his glass onto the table.

"We took it one day at a time, Booth. Just like you gotta do. But you can't just leave her hanging,"

He was silent and then shook his head.

"What about me? Why is she allowed to leave me hanging?"

Hodgins looked almost into the distance and took a long time to answer that. He rubbed his face, rough with a beard, and started on the drink the bartender had poured for him.

"It's what we've got to do sometimes. It's what everyone's got to do. One foot in front of the other, and let someone else be your crutch, or be the crutch for someone else. We hope to hold up long enough that the other person can help be our crutch,"

"Is that what you did for Angela?"

Hodgins was silent for a long time before he shook his head.

"No. That's what Angela did for me,"

They were silent once more until they finished their drinks, and called for a cab. They'd get the car later, have Booth drive them both down to the bar and let Hodgins take it home. Even without the risk of a DWI, neither felt much like driving.

* * *

"Sweetie?" Angela asked softly as she knocked on Brennan's door and then snuck in. She saw the letter next to her bed and started to grab for it, to see if that had anything to do with anything, before Brennan spoke up.

"Zach wrote me…" she stated, half exhausted tone showing clearly. Angela nodded in understanding and sat next to her, hoping that her friend would manage to at least turn and face her. No avail.

"Sweetie. I need you to talk to me. Booth says-"

"What's Booth been saying?" she asked quickly, turning and staring at Angela with cold, calculating eyes. Angela had to keep away the feeling of deep despair she saw when she looked into her friends eyes, and sighed.

"You're not eating and you're here all the time. Have you been sleeping alright?"

Brennan huffed and laid back down, tense now and not willing to let anyone in.

"I've been sleeping just fine, Angela. Now please. Go. I'm tired,"

She had no doubt that she was tired, but she had no intention of leaving. Crawling further and leaning on the backboard of the bed, Angela looked down on her friend. She suddenly reminded her of the Temperance Brennan she'd first met, the young, almost starving Anthropologist who was so afraid of everyone that she'd barely been willing to talk to Angela. It was a miracle she'd managed to get through any walls at all.

"Sweetie. I need you to talk to me, or else I'm going to call Sweets. I can't know whether to worry or not if you don't tell me what's going on in that brilliant brain of yours," she offered, smiling slightly and hoping to get a chuckle.

Nope. Nothing.

"Please. Talk to me. I don't want to have to call Sweets,"

The threat was very real, even if Angela could barely believe it was coming from her own mouth. Angela was starting to recognize the change in Brennan, and it scared her. It scared her just like it had scared her when Hodgins had started to stare off into space, starting using a rubber band against his own wrists. When he had started to push his food around or give some to Michael and then throw the rest away. When he'd simply walked around in a daze.

Brennan looked up at her and shrugged.

"It's irrational,"

"Try me,"

There was a long, tense silence, and both stared at each other before Brennan started to talk.

"I'm tired. I'm tired and I feel almost…Dead. I'm guilty…We fought and it was partially my fault and what if that was part of it…I'm guilty for not being able to take care of Christine…I'm angry at Christine and Booth, and at you and Hodgins, and then I'm guilty for being angry…And I don't want to do anything, Ange. Even Zach's letter, it didn't affect me at all. I haven't slept in days. That's inaccurate….I haven't slept more than two hours in days…And Ange…" she cut off suddenly and closed her eyes.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

She took in a deep breath and shook her head once more.

"You'll hate me,"

"I would never, ever hate you, Brennan. What's wrong? Tell me,"

She stared off into the distance and pointed to the table on the edge of the bedstand. Angela's eyes wandered over until she found exactly what Brennan had been focused on.

A bottle labeled Ibuprofen.

"Brennan, I-"

"I wasn't going to take it or anything. It's not like that… It's just, I was staring at it for a long time and thinking to myself about how much it would take to really hurt you…I'm not suicidal, Ange…I just…I think that if a murder came into the house right now, I wouldn't fight back. But I'd never take them. I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't. Okay? Deaths just invading my thoughts more and more lately," she admitted, and choked back a sob.

Angela was keeping back tears as well and pet her friends hair, before walking over and grabbing the bottle, walking into the bathroom and dumping the contents down the toilet. She then walked back to Brennan and coaxed her head into her lap, tears falling down her face.

"I love you, Bren. Don't EVER do that to me. Don't you EVER do that to me…"

When Brennan had finally drifted into something close to slumber, though Angela was unsure if it was real or not, Angela pulled out her cell phone and dialed Sweet's number.

"I'm sorry sweetie…I'm so, so sorry…"


	9. Recoil

**This is a shorter one, but I wanted to update. Again, thanks to everyone! To those of us still reeling from last night's season finale, know that hopefully soon I'll be starting a fic for that as well. I'm hoping to update ALL of my fics this weekend, except for the sick fic compilation I have. Thanks to everyone!**

* * *

_'Is she sleeping now?'_

"Yeah…Yeah, she is…" Angela whispered into the phone and closed her eyes. It reminded her of the first time she'd seen Brennan almost keel over from exhaustion. And it hurt to see this part of her again.

_'Don't leave her side. No matter what. Alright? Don't leave her alone. Do you know if she actually took anything?'_

"The seal on the bottle hadn't been broken yet, so I'm assuming no. She said she wasn't…She said she wasn't planning on hurting herself, Sweets. Does that mean something?"

The other line was quiet for a long time until the answer came.

_'I wish I knew,'_

Planning and thinking were two different things, Angela had to remind herself. Totally different. You couldn't REALLY compare them. You can't be convicted because of thoughts, but you can because of plans, so perhaps this made a difference. It didn't worry her any less.

"Are you calling an ambulance?" she asked unsteadily, unsure of how she felt about that. She could hear Sweets hesitation.

_'No. I think it'll be better if I come over…I'm assuming Booth's not home, correct?'_

"No, he went out to drink with Hodgins," she understood as soon as she said it how utterly ridiculous that must have sounded to everyone else, or even extremely irresponsible. "He needed a break,"

_'If he gets there before I do, I wouldn't suggest letting him in. It seems as though Dr. Brennan is latching onto a select number of people, you being one, and Booth not being one. She'll become more withdrawn if he's in the room,'_

Sweets explained this and Angela nodded, taking in a sharp inhale of breath and closing her eyes.

"Do I tell her you're coming over if she wakes up?"

_'I doubt she'll wake up for the time being. But if she does, then no. Just act normal. Treat her like you always treat her,'_

'Like she's fragile and about to break?' Angela thought, but closed her eyes and nodded, almost heavily. "Okay. I can do that,"

She hung up and laid her head back, until only a few minutes later the shrill sound of her phone ringing again made her curse and check the number. Her dad. Smiling slightly, she pushed answer quickly and put it to her ear.

"Hey dad," she whispered.

Brennan had woken up when the phone had rang, and was looking up at her while Angela and her father had a conversation. She could tell when he'd put Michael on the other end of the line because Angela's voice changed almost immediately.

Almost right before hanging up, Angela looked down and saw Brennan looking up at her. She asked Michael softly,

"Hey, honey. You want to say hi to auntie Brennan?" she asked. Brennan smiled slightly when the phone was handed to her and she heard the boy talk almost at a constant. When it sounded like someone was trying to get him to finally hang up, Michael said loudly on the other end of the line,

"I loves you! Bye bye!"

Brennan handed the phone back to Angela and tried not to feel the sinking despair that had found it's way into her stomach. She tried not to think about what Hodgins had said that day in the hospital, but her mind still wandered.

_Hey, him and Michael would have torn it up,_

The sudden realization made her sick as she moved her head back and got as far away from Angela as possible. When Ange hung up and looked back at Brennan, she sighed.

"Oh, Sweetie…"

Brennan didn't answer, she never did, but the sound of soft sobs met Angela's ears. Her heart clenched and she wanted to reach out to the forensic anthropologist, but couldn't. Sadly, she moved closer to her and rubbed her back comfortingly.

"Come on, Bren. Talk to me,"

No, no answer.

Instead, the sound of a door opening and closing met her ears, along with the sound of two pairs of footsteps. Booth was home.

* * *

Booth walked into the house and kicked off his shoes before listening into the next room where Brennan and Angela were. When he heard no sound, he walked away into the kitchen and turned on the faucet, filled a glass with water and moved into the living room. Hodgins came in slowly, his eyes shifted to the guest room door and he simply walked into the living room with Booth.

The tension was so thick that even a machete may not have cut it.

It was about five minutes later that Booth heard a knock at the door and got up, grumbling, asking who the hell would be knocking at this time in the night. Opening the door, Booth glared and saw Sweets standing in the doorway.

"What the hell are YOU doing here?"


	10. This isn't awesome

**Update! As always, i don't own Bones, read and review if you can! Thanks a lot to everyone!**

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here?" Booth snarled, looking at the psychologist. Sweets looked at him for the first time in almost fearful worry. His eyes flashed something that Booth couldn't distinguish, so when the 'Little boy', as Booth liked to call him, tried to make his way in, Booth allowed it. He stared at him and took in a large gulp of air.

"What's wrong, Sweets?"

"Is Angela still here?" he asked, in which Hodgins got up quickly and approached them.

"What's Angie got to do with this?" Hodgins asked, feeling a surge of protective instinct over both women in the guest room. Sweets let out a sigh and tilted back his head, shaking it.

"So, yeah. I need to talk to both of you. Right. Now." Sweets emphasized before waving them over, hoping that Brennan wasn't awake in the other room. Booth fallowed, fuming visibly, while Hodgins tried to puff himself up and look a lot more sure then he was. When they were in the kitchen, Sweets looked up carefully.

"Look, I'm not sure, but Booth, Hodgins. I think that Dr. Brennan may be feeling more than a little bit of strain over what happened,"

"No shit, Sherlock," Hodgins stated, almost approaching Sweets violently. Sweets held up his hands and shook his head.

"Hey, don't get angry at me! I'm simply stating what we were all thinking. Are we all on the same page now?" he asked, almost scared, and looked at both men. Booth nodded, his fists clenched. Hodgins was looking away, but nodded reluctantly.

"Good. Now, here's the thing. Angela called me earlier with some concerns…It seems that Dr. Brennan has been unusually fixated with death as of late…"

"She's a forensic anthropologist…She's always fixated on death!" Booth stated, mainly trying to defend the fact that he himself hadn't noticed it. Sweets, once more, held his hands up and shook his head.

"You don't understand. As in, not as a scientist. Angela…Angela was afraid that…"

"Afraid that what, Sweets?" Hodgins voice ordered immediate telling, but Sweets was unsure if he could do what the men actually wanted him to. To tell them felt like betrayal, but as a psychologist, he knew he had to. As a friend, he knew he had to. And if Booth burst in there, who knew what would happen?

"Dr. Brennan was fixated on a bottle of Ibuprofen and confided in Angela that she's been thinking of the dead in a less then…Scientific way. Do you understand what I mean?" he asked, looking at them and hoping for understanding. His eyes hovered on Booth while his eyes widened and he clenched his jaw, his eyes hard.

"I believe she's suffering from Post Partum depression, Agent Booth. And I wish that you'd stop looking at me like that," he added, a small amount of fear creeping into his voice. Booth felt himself tremble as he shook his head.

"Not Bones. Bones is NOT depressed. She's just…Grieving…" he stated, though he faltered off. All of his time of knowing Temperance Brennan, he knew that she had a hard way of dealing with things. He knew that she dealt with things by pushing them aside. What had happened to that part of her?

"I'm afraid that the grief process, while inexact, is not this. Booth, it's not impossible to treat. It's very common, in fact. And then put this stress onto it…"

"Not Bones! Alright?!" he stated, and quickly walked away, his eyes almost overflowing with tears of anger, of fear, of sadness. The memories of Hodgins, of Booth's father, of his mother, invaded his thoughts, and he shook them off. Sweets was left standing awkwardly next to Hodgins, who looked at him sympathetically and then looked at the door, fear and anger at Booth showing in his eyes.

"What right does he have?" Hodgins asked harshly, and Sweets shook his head.

"No, no, no! We have GOT to stop putting this blame on each other. God! It's totally not radical," he stated, and with Hodgins look at him, he rolled his eyes. "It's not uncommon, but Agent Booth…He wouldn't have walked away without a good reason, alright? So do you want to come with me to talk to her or not?" he asked. Hodgins stiffened and nodded, before walking with the psychologist into the guest room, where Angela was speaking softly to a half aware Brennan.

"It's okay, Sweetie. It's okay…"

Sweets knocked on the wall and Angela looked up, surprised.

"Wheres…" she asked, but Hodgins shook his head. She immediately shut her mouth, though by the way that Brennan stiffened, she knew what Angela was about to say.

"Dr. Brennan. How are you today?" Sweets asked, standing next to the woman. She stiffened more and tried to back into Angela, to hide or blend in, but to no avail.

Hodgins, feeling more comfortable, sat on the bed and wrapped his arm around Angela and tried to stay totally calm. This was all he could do. He was scared beyond belief, but he didn't want Dr. B to know that much.

"You told him, didn't you?" Brennan asked, almost accusingly, though she didn't make any move to slip away from Angela's comforting arms. Angela sighed and nodded, parting her dark hair.

"I'm sorry, Sweetie. You scared me. I'm worried,"

Hodgins nodded in agreement, even if Brennan couldn't see it. Breathing in and keeping in his chest for a few moments, Sweets, sat on the floor, feeling an unwelcome sensation in the room.

"Dr. Brennan, we have to talk. Immediately. If you don't talk, I'll be forced to take action. Do you have anything you need to tell me? Everything isn't alright, is it?" he asked, and he felt his heart drop when she looked up and stared, before shaking her head.

"No. It's not. I don't think it ever will be…"

The tears in her eyes told him this-The old Temperance Brennan was most certainly not there in her eyes.


	11. Small Bump

**Another update. As always, I don't own Bones, nor the characters, or anything related to such. Thanks to everyone and have a fine day!**

* * *

_And I'll whisper quietly 'I'll give you nothing but truth.'_

* * *

Booth had made his way outside and was now sitting on the step, his head in his hands as he tried to rub everything from the past couple days out of his face, out of his body. He tried to ignore the pained feeling in his body, tried to ignore the ever constant anger that was feeding into his veins. He didn't like this. He didn't want to keep pushing away from Bones…But it was like he couldn't understand exactly what was going through her head.

This was _Bones _he was thinking about. Freaking Bones…Who dealt with death, who had lost everything when she was little, who had been beaten and torn apart. Who messed with criminals all the time, who threatened those criminals and tried to get a fight out of them.

Flipping out his phone, he sighed and dialed the only person he knew would talk to him right now.

He didn't want to leave Bones right now…But he couldn't think of a better alternative.

The phone rang several times until someone picked up, Michelle, he recognized.

_'Hello?'_

Taking a deep breath, Booth leaned back.

"Yeah, hey. Is Camille around? This is Booth…"

_'Yeah, she's here. Hey, Booth. I'm really sorry. How are you holding up?'_

"That's kind of why I wanted to talk to Cam, kiddo," he stated, but chuckled at the end to try and make her see that he wasn't angry. He could hear the hesitation on the other end of the line before Cam picked up.

_'Hey there Seeley,'_

"Camille…You have time to talk?" he asked.

_'Yeah, I do. Shouldn't you be with Dr. Brennan, though?'_

"I need to clear my head…Just…Can you come to our house and just talk to me for a while on the step or something? I don't want to leave, but…"

_'You need someone that's entirely truthful with you?'_

"Yeah…"

_'I'll be over in ten. And Seeley?'_

"Yeah?"

_'Take care of yourself, alright?'_

He hung up and held the phone in midair for a while before his hands dropped to his side and he looked out to the distance, waiting for her car to come along.

"I disturbed something, didn't I?" he asked sheepishly. She smiled and sat down, shaking her head.

"No. Michelle and I were just having a talk. What do you need, Seeley?" she asked, sitting down on the step. Booth looked out into the distance and sighed.

"You remember before my first deployment, you and I just sat outside for hours, not saying anything? I was so damned scared, but you always made me feel better. Stronger, almost. You remember that day?"

Cam nodded slightly, unsure what that had to do with anything, but nodding none the less.

"How scared I was then? It's nothing like this…"

Cam's eyes gazed at the front door before they locked back on Booth. Firmly, she gripped Booth's shoulder.

"What's going on, Seeley?"

He leaned against the door, hoping that it would open, that it would slam into his head and knock him out for a little while. Of course, no such thing would happen. Blinking back tears, he looked up into the sky, which was fading into darker, cooler colors now before he started to speak.

"Sweets…Sweets thinks Bones is sick…"

Cam nodded and leaned back.

"What kind of sick, Seeley?"

"Depressed…"

The word came out of his mouth almost like a moan, and again she nodded, being the first one of his friends to understand his dilemma. She'd known him for most of her life-Of course she understood.

"And you're worried that she'll end up like your mom or you, right?"

He nodded, sighing.

"Seeley…I know your scared, but that doesn't give you a right to stop pushing against her,"

He looked over at her, a slight flash of anger. She took in a deep breath.

"Now listen. You're allowed to be scared, but do you remember what I did when I saw you like that? I didn't just let it go. I kept pushing you. And that's how you knew I cared,"

"I hated you…When you kept pushing. I hated you so much,"

"I'd rather have been hated then you'd have been dead. You hated me when I told Hank too. You wouldn't have lived to be a kick ass FBI agent if I hadn't, though,"

"Bones is stronger then I was…"

They were quiet for a long time until Camille replied.

"It doesn't always have to do with strength, Seeley,"

Closing his eyes, Booth shook his head.

"Yeah, you're right. But I need it. And I don't have it…"

"Then just do this for me…Don't give up on her,"

Camille got up and offered her hand to Booth. She stated that she had to get going, but would come see Dr. Brennan later. Her last word of advice was the exact same advice she had just given him.

"Don't give up on her…"

* * *

Sweets listened and nodded frequently while Brennan spoke, Angela running her fingers through the girl's hair. Hodgins' eyes got darker with every passing word, and he tried to keep his head up, even though it was harder to stay then he thought was possible.

The guilt that dripped through her words was undeniable, and the anger as well. Desperation, exhaustion. Shame, even. There was so much shame. And he was unsure of how to approach that shame.

"I hate psychology…" she muttered at the end, and Sweets smiled a little.

"Well, that's consistent with who you've always been. Congrats, Dr. Brennan. You aren't crazy," he stated, but Hodgins shot him a look that caused him to look down at his hands.

"Dr. Brennan. Can I ask you a question?"

A small tilt of her head as a response.

"When Dr. Hodgins was suffering from depression after…" he looked at Angela, who was more focused on keeping Brennan calm then his words. "After the miscarriage, why did you consult me if you hate psychology?"

"Because it has nothing to do with psychology, Sweets. It's a physical reaction. A chemical imbalance," she snarled at him, a sudden anger taking over her. Sweets held up his hands in defense, eyes wide, before shaking his head.

"How is his reaction any different than yours?"

The question caught her off guard, and caused both Angela and Jack to stiffen slightly.

"Because Dr. Hodgins had no direct influence on what happened,"

"How did you have any influence on what happened, Dr. Brennan?"

"I'm not saying it again…" she stated, and Angela silently begged Sweets not to bring it up once more, no matter how much it needed to be addressed.

"But Dr. Brennan, it wasn't your fault. You had no influence. It was, as you say, a random variable that was chosen. That's not to say your guilt or shame or emotions aren't valid. They are. A hormonal and chemical imbalance, as you say, aren't helping matters. Dr. Brennan, you're strong, but you can't take on the world by yourself all the time. You aren't superwoman," he stated.

"There's nothing wrong…" she stated.

Hodgins felt the pit in the bottom of his stomach, the reminder of what he'd told Dr. Brennan all those years ago. Sitting on the steps of the Jeffersonian, staring into space.

_"Dr. Hodgins. Something is wrong. Trust me. Something is wrong. Come talk to Sweets with me. Please, Dr. Hodgins,"_

_"Nothings wrong, Dr. B…Everything's great…"_

_"If you don't do something right now, I'm going to get someone that will. Think of Michael and Angela! Think of me! At least do it for them!"_

"Dr. B…Please. Just take your own advice…" he muttered. Angela looked up in surprise, but Brennan looked up at Hodgins, staring at his eyes.

For a moment, something clicked, and she looked away.

"I feel responsible," she stated. "And physiologically, yes, I understand that it has nothing to do with strength but…I can't think right…"

Sweets got up and nodded.

"I don't think it would be wise to bring you to a hospital…But you won't be left alone. Alright? In the morning, we'll go to my office, and we'll talk some more. I'll be here all night long,"

"I'm not leaving you, sweetie…" Angela stated.

The creak of a door opening showed Booth stepping in.

"I'm here too…"


	12. Nothings real

**Hey! Thanks for all the positive feedback. I'm unsure how much farther I want to go with this one, so please let me know. I don't own Bones, read and review, and I hope you all have a wonderful day!**

* * *

_With a smile like hers and a dimple beneath your chin...Eyelids closed to be soon opened wide…In four months, you'll open your eyes._

* * *

"Leave," Hodgins quickly commanded, getting up. Booths earlier reaction had made Hodgins weary of letting him anywhere near his longtime friend. Muscles stiff, fist clenched, Hodgins was determined to put up a fight. Sweets let out a hiss of air at him, but he still didn't back down.

"No," Booth stated, walking inside of the door more and closing it.

"_Leave_," Hodgins commanded again, advancing on the taller, more muscular male and pushing him away. "Now."

"Why the hell do you want me to leave?" Booth asked angrily, resisting the urge to throw Hodgins to the ground and start using his body as a punching bag. They both had anger issues, but Booth had the training to use it well, and they both knew it.

"You know why," he hissed, blue, cold eyes staring into Booth's hard, brown eyes. The idea of letting Booth get close enough just to crush her again made him want to punch out a wall. The idea of him saying something stupid made him want to yell and scream. Instead, he let his anger come out through his body's stiff posture, through his gritted teeth.

"Honey, stop," Angela commanded, looking between them and knowing that, if anything was bad right now, fighting would be one. Physically, at least.

"Why?" Hodgins asked, turning quickly. "So that he can come in here and wreck some more stuff up? Come on!"

_"I'm hurting too!" _he growled, the sudden bark of his voice causing all to look at Booth. His voice echoed throughout the house, vibrating against its frame, until it bounced back. "Don't you think it kills me to think about what we could have been? Don't you think it _kills _me to see you lying there? Huh? Do you think I don't cry myself to sleep every night? Do you think I don't _dream _about that fight, that I don't _dread _waking up in the morning?"

He walked over, pushing aside a shocked Hodgins and then kneeling besides where Bones was lying, eyes closed as she tried, in vein, to block out what had just happened. Shaking slightly, she curled more into her friends lap and tried to ignore the aching of her heart, tried to ignore the pain that Booth had just brought into her.

"Temperance," he stated, and Brennan tensed up more, letting out a choked gasp of air, before Booth's body slumped. "Bones. Please. Look at me, baby…"

She opened them slightly and stared at Booth, unsure of what to say. This wasn't common for Brennan, and she didn't like it. She liked being sure of everything.

"Booth?" she cracked out, and he nodded, smiling a little bit. Almost unconsciously, she started to levitate towards Booth until he wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her head.

"I'm sorry. I was scared," he stated, eyes soft on her as she held back the tears that had been coming for a long time. Sweets motioned for Angela and Hodgins to fallow him and leave the room. While Hodgins stared between them, as if daring Booth to say something stupid, he got up and walked out, closing the door softly.

Booth crawled into bed, ran his fingers through her hair, whispered in her ear.

"Talk to me, Bones…"

Nothing but the silent sobs that racked her body, nothing but the tears that drenched his shirt. These things he was aware of and was comforted by. She was leaning on him, something that hadn't happened in quite some time, and he felt almost ecstatic by it, even with the circumstances.

"I can't help it anymore…" she mumbled. Booth rubbed her back comfortingly, eyes trained on her face.

"Help what, Bones?"

Her body tensed and then relaxed.

"I…I just feel bad all the time, Booth. And all these thoughts…You hate me, don't you?" she mumbled. Booth shook his head.

"Never. I'll never hate you. Never, never, never. I love you, Bones. I understand,"

"Nothing that I'm going through could you possibly understand…" she whispered, and Booth assured himself that this wasn't the logical Temperance Brennan talking, it was the one that he'd seen in the coming weeks. He could hear the anger beneath her tone, and so he tried to put it out.

"Do you remember the scars on our back analogy?" he asked. It had been so long ago, he wondered if she did. After all, he had forgotten, in his own worries, about what Brennan had talked about that night. He wondered if she'd forgotten.

"Yes. I do," she stated, flinching. Booths finger tips absently grazed her head and he closed his eyes.

"You could have told me about that girl, Bones. I would have understood…."

"I tried…Booth…You just weren't listening."

He could make the same argument for himself, but he really hadn't tried to make Brennan understand. He'd simply been moody most of the time. Sighing when he realized his mistake, that things often had to be spelled out socially, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Bones…I really am…"

There was total silence.

"Do you remember what I told Sweets that night?"

Brennan nodded. She could remember it fiercely, because it was the first night that she had laid in bed, hoping that Booth was alright for some reason other than crazy murderers.

"I didn't just want to die then…After I got home after Desert Storm, I got depressed. Cam…Cam and Pop's are the only reason I'm still alive," he stated, clicking his tongue. Seeing the tears falling from his own face, she brushed them away and laid her head heavily on his chest.

"I know it's illogical for me to think that I'm stronger then that…It's nothing to do with strength. But I've seen genocides, Booth. I've seen wars. I've seen children killed at their school tables, why…Why is this affecting me more?"

She knew the answers, of course, physically. Rapid changes, both internally and externally. It wasn't just a mental thing anymore.

Booth looked at the ceiling and shook his head.

"I can't sleep, Booth…I can't…"

"Hey, neither can I. I've got. I'll keep you safe. Okay, Bones?"

She nodded, clutching onto him harder, until his breath was almost expelled from his body. He let in little gulps of air, feeling comforted by this sudden rush of affection, and closed his eyes, knowing by her breathing that she was still awake, that she was still fine, that she was still alive.

And he knew her breathing.

"I won't leave you. I promise,"

This seemed to be what she needed to hear.


	13. It gets better

**I want to thank everyone for the great support. You guys have been great since the day I published this. Thank you to everyone! This may seem a bit of a choppy ending, but I tried to make it short and sweet. This is a year into the future. Thanks everyone, thank you, thank you, thank you!**

* * *

"It doesn't just go away…" Brennan stated, staring at the group of people in front of her. "I'm…Not good with emotions…But it doesn't go away. You'll still remember them. Sometimes I feel sick with grief. And it doesn't really ever become better."

The attention was so much on Brennan that she almost forgot that she was even speaking to real people, and not cardboard cutouts. It had taken her forever to even get to the stage of talking to Sweets about it. Sweets, then Ange, then Hodgins, then Booth…At some point in her life, she decided, she'd tell Christine. She'd apologize, and tell her everything. Explain everything.

"But you get better…You adapt. It's still hard, but some days I can push thoughts away. I'm off medication, I'm with my partner…We're doing our jobs, and some days life is normal. I wasn't weak for what happened. I would have been weak if I'd have given up on my family…"

When Sweets had asked her if she was willing to talk to a grief group, she'd originally declined. The idea not only scared her shitless, but seemed pathetic. A ton of people sitting in a circle, talking about their feelings. Who does that?

Just tell them what happened to you, Sweets said. Just tell them and make them understand that they aren't alone, Dr. Brennan. That even someone accomplished like you feels it.

While she'd contemplated it, Booth had rubbed her shoulders, his mouth next to her ear kissing her cheek occasionally.

You don't have to do it, Bones, he said. But it'd be mighty brave if you did.

"Because life is difficult. We can't always tell what's going to happen. And statistically, most of us will end up failing, or experience some amount of grand pain. My partner would say this makes us human. While inaccurate, I can understand what he's saying,"

I want to, she'd whispered.

"And as lonely as you might feel, you aren't alone. Biologically, we are all connected. We are all, in essence, very similar through our DNA,"

So she'd walked into the room, a crowd of people staring at her, as she began. When she'd finished, no one had clapped, no one had really said anything.

"And I mourn the loss of each of our own….This is all,"

She'd ended abruptly, so perhaps it was to be expected. Rushing out, she'd gone to her car, turned the keys, and drove home.

Christine greeted her, as did Booth, who pecked her on the cheek and asked,

"How'd it go?"

She grunted in response, to which he replied,

"That bad, huh?"

They didn't talk about it again. Not until Sweets brought it up once more.

"Dr. Brennan, may I ask why you left so early last Saturday?"

"I saw no need to stay. It's very obvious that my words did very little. I'd rather not talk about it, Sweets. Can we go on?"

Clucking his tongue, he lowered his head.

"On the contrary, Dr. Brennan. A woman wrote me a letter for you, and asked that you receive it. She informed me that she'd recently gone to the Doctor because she was experiencing the symptoms of Post Partum Depression. Dr. Brennan, you may have saved someone's life,"

She hesitated and shook her head.

"I don't save lives. People are dead when they get to me,"

"You saved her life, Dr. Brennan. That isn't an insignificant matter."

Clamping her jaw, she looked down at her hands and leaned into Booth, who put a comforting arm around his partner.

Later, when they went home, Booth would hold Brennan throughout the night, until she almost drifted to sleep on his chest. He rose up and kissed her on the forehead.

"You're a good woman, Bones. Don't forget that, okay?"

Closing her eyes, she tried to stop the flow of tears and leaned into his neck.

"And you're a good mom. Okay?"

Okay, she thought.

"It's getting easier," she stated.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Easier every day,"

"I've got you, babe,"

The moon looked into their window, keeping guard over the weary couple. Perhaps it would never get better, but Booth wanted to believe that it would. That it would slowly morph into something better, or at least something more then bearable.

They'd wait until that day.

They had each other until it came.


End file.
